Rat On A Stick
by ConstipatedSeagull
Summary: A series of garbage that can ONLY exist in fanfiction. What poor Zim would kill himself to avoid seeing. And a rat on a stick.


This is the worst story you'll ever read. Danger! Hard Hat Area!  
____________________________  
  
(A young male walks down the street, dancing a bit as he moves. Little doe he know, he's being followed by about five hundred chickens in sombreros)  
  
Dib: (singing) You know it's kind of hard  
Just to get along today  
Our subject isn't cool  
But he fakes it anyway  
He may not have a clue  
And he may not have style  
But everything he lacks  
Well, he makes up in denial!  
  
(Dib continues to sing "Pretty Fly For A White Guy", but no one really knows if he's singing about Zim or himself. Poor Dib.)  
  
Dib: (still singing) So don't debate, a player straight  
You know he really doesn't get it anyway...  
  
(The chickens are gaining on Dib. They have red eyes. And fart fire. These are magical chickens. Why else would they be wearing sombreros?)  
  
Chickens: Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg...  
  
(Dib doesn't notice the chicken Armada following him. He keeps walking, singing)  
  
Dib: The world needs wannabes  
So do that brand new thing!  
  
(The chickens cluck loudly, and then begin to dance the Macarena, still singing horrible mutated Christmas carols. Angels fly overhead, and Jesus appears somewhere, but no one cares about that. After all, dancing chickens are SO much more interesting than the biblically predicted end of the world.)  
  
Dib: (grinning, takes out a camera. As usual, he's going to spy on someone. As usual, it's Zim. Or, at least, Dib seems to think)  
  
(Zim, on the other hand, is sitting in a poison oak bush, spy ware in hand, or on his face, whatever seems best. He seems to be spying on a concave of bums. But we'll get to that later.)  
  
(Dib arrives in front of Zim's house, grinning from ear to gigantic ear. He sorta looks like a smiling Dumbo. With glasses and black hair. Okay, so maybe he doesn't look like Dumbo.)  
  
Dib: I WILL FIND THE TRUTH! (he runs into Zim's front yard, a dead rat on a stick that he pulled from somewhere in his hands. As usual, the gnomes approach him...but, upon seeing the dead rat on a stick, they squeal loudly, and run the other way.)  
  
(The gnomes end up in a corner of the yard, where they find Aaron Carter. Because I said so, Aaron and Zim's flotilla of gnomes duck into a bush, clothes flying everywhere. Which is odd, because I was under the impression that Zim's gnomes don't wear clothes. I mean, what kind of sick fuck puts clothes on a lawn gnome?)  
  
(Wild monkey butt sex sounds ensue.)  
  
Dib: (slinking up to the window) That was...disturbing....  
  
(He eats the rat off of the stick, and puts the stick back into hyperspace, where it surely came from. With the problem of the rotting, stinking rat taken care of, Dib takes out a video camera and a comfortable recliner, and settles down in the bush, intent on catching a few shots of Zim doing...well, whatever Zim happens to do on a cloudy Monday afternoon. When he's not wandering the streets looking for strippers.)  
  
Dib: (grinning to himself) With the footage I am about to surely get, I can prove Zim's existence to anyone who cares! I shall sell my video to Oprah Winfrey, and expose the truth to fat housewives everywhere!  
  
(The chorus of the chicken choir swells as Dib peeks into the window. The chickens are now singing that weird song by Blink182. Only God knows why.)  
  
Chickens: (crooning) When you fucked grandpa, did he tell you that he loved you?  
Did he hold you until the sun did rise  
And did he look into your eyes  
And ask you to filate him  
And stick a finger or two in his ass?  
  
(This song of course sets the mood perfectly for the horrors Dib is about to see. Though, again, I have no clue what screwing your grandfather has to do with...well...-cough-)  
  
Dib: (raises his camera to the glass, a doofy smile on his face, dreaming of all of the hot, big busted chicks with fakes tans that are going to be hanging all over him as soon as he...well...does what he's been trying and failing to do for about six months now)  
  
Dib: (same doofy smile) They're going to be asking me to sign their panties! I'll be screwing everyone from big-busted Mary Sues to dead bodies! I'll be...OH GOD!!  
  
(The metaphorical mist finally cleared off of Dib's face, and his poor doomed eyes focused on the horror within Zim's house. Honestly, this was the last thing our poor hero was expecting to see...though probably the first thing that all of you would guess...)  
  
Skoodge: (holding a whip that's made of a large, dead python) Beg for me, bitch titties!  
  
(Gaz is chained to a wall, butt-naked of course, her hands high above her head and her legs spread wide apart. She's covered in whip marks, large leeches, and banana peels.)  
  
Gaz: Oh Skoodge, I want you! Stick your tiny little weenie into my...  
  
Dib: (stops listening at this moment, and starts projectile vomiting. Cats gather around him, licking up the smelly goodness)  
  
(In Zim's base, Skoodge takes Gaz off the wall, laughing as she falls flat onto her face into a taco that Gir puked up. He waits for her to sit up, and then pounces on her, squashing her into the ground with a sick crunching noise. The two of them begin to have wild duck sex. And yes, ducks have wild sex. I saw a duck rape another once. I've never heard quacking like that in my life. Scarred me forever.)  
  
Skoodge: Uh uh, oh yeah, oh baby! I don't care that I'm out of character! That's half the point of this worthless piece of crap!  
  
(For some odd reason, Skoodge has "The Real Slim Shady" tattooed on his ass. Which doesn't really make sense, because he's pretty fat. But, wouldn't you admit that "The Real Slim Shady" sounds a lot better than "The Really Morbidly Obese Shady"?)  
  
Dib: (has recovered from his Hideously Painful Attack Of Puking, and is now avidly filming Skoodge and Gaz's wild love session. This is sure as hell not going to get onto Oprah...but, if Dib is lucky, his X-rated firm of wild, out of character alien butt sex will get onto an episode of Jerry Springer.)  
  
"Next, on the "All Jerry, all the time" channel, another episode of Jerry Springer! Stay tuned for My Little Sister Is Fucking A Fat Green Alien!"  
  
(We're not sure if this voice is coming from God, nowhere, everywhere, or maybe a TV in the future. But, as this voice is only heard by Dib and about fifty different gophers, it doesn't really matter.)  
  
Gaz: (get bored of sex with Skoodge, because he's a complete log in the sack, and falls asleep. Loud snoring ensues)  
  
Skoodge: (feels his manliness crushed, yada yada yada) Alas! She doesn't like me! I feel my dick shrinking!  
  
(But I didn't think that Skoodge had a dick...)  
  
Dib: Of all of the stupid stories that have been written about me, this has to be the worst. I mean, what character flaw would ever convince Gaz to screw Skoodge? I'm beginning to think that this author has some problems. (he groans) And...my God...my intestines hurt...  
  
(The rat isn't sitting well in Dib's stomach. This story will shortly turn into a Tums commercial)  
  
Skoodge: (poking Gaz with a dead alligator...who knows where he got it from) The only way that this ridiculous story could get any worse would be if Gaz got pregnant...  
  
Dib:...Which will surely happen a chapter or two from now. Wait. (Dib stops, thinks) That's GROSS!  
  
(Skoodge hears Dib's disgusted exultation, and runs to the window. At that moment, a giant corn snake drops from the sky, and eats Skoodge. Which is weird, because I thought that Skoodge was inside the house.)  
  
(Skoodge will be back. He always comes back.)  
  
Dib: ARG! MY INTESTINES! IT FEELS LIKE SOMEONE CRAMMED A LIVE SQUIRREL UP MY ASS!  
  
(Dib vomits noisily, and the chicken chorus swells. Cue Tums commercial.)  
  
-End...for now.-  
  
NEXT TIME, ON 'RAT ON A STICK'...  
  
Earth's Bum Population -versus- the Wild Turkeys! And what Zim had to do with it!  
  
-Beware of broken bottles- 


End file.
